


Let the Food Fight It Out

by mesonyx



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Diplomacy, Gen, Pizza, Pizza diplomacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8964013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesonyx/pseuds/mesonyx
Summary: Walt crosses the line, Nighthorse protects his investments, Mathias is frustrated by constraints, and Vic is on edge. Even when so much is different, some things never change. At least this time there's pizza.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedchick/gifts).



> twistedchick, I loved your prompt. I also love pizza. I got a little carried away with those two sentiments.
> 
> Thankfully this fic was beta'ed by htbthomas, who knows how to spell "pineapple." I do not, as it turns out.

“You have arrived at your destination,” said Jamie’s GPS in a pleasant voice. The building was remote, but close to the road, surrounded on all sides by the beautiful rural Wyoming landscape. 

Jamie was not at all taken by the gorgeous surroundings. He was distracted by a rising sense of panic. “Oh no,” he said, pulling in front of the building. The address was on the rez, but he hadn’t recognized it until he arrived. It was the tribal police station, and Jamie had an awkward relationship with local law enforcement. His last encounter with the tribal police ended with him having to wear a wire and risking his life to record the Irish mob recruit him to sell heroin. But they’d ordered four pies, and it was no use waiting in the car for them to get cold. He took a deep breath to steady himself, grabbed his insulated pizza bag, and headed inside.

Jamie stopped at the first desk he saw when he got inside. The man in blue looked up at him and smiled. “Eh, we didn’t order any pizzas, man,” he said.

“This is the address they gave,” Jamie replied. His voice wavered. Already this was off to a bad start. “Order came in about forty-five minutes ago.”

The police officer sucked his teeth. “Then it’s probably for our visitors,” he said. The emphasis on the word made Jamie suspect that they were unwelcome guests - which, at a police station, was not at all reassuring. “Too bad,” the officer continued. “I coulda gone for a slice. Go behind me, down the hall - it’s on the left.” The man pointed in the general direction, not at all helpfully, and Jamie wandered down the hall, tried two wrong doors, and eventually knocked on the door to the tribal chief’s office. A voice inside told him to come in.

Jamie steeled himself as he turned the knob and opened the door. Sometimes he felt that his nerves were too frayed to be in the pizza delivery/marijuana distribution business anymore. Maybe he could get disability or something. He often considered self-medicating with his stash, but it was bad business to get high on one’s own supply.

When he turned the corner the first person he saw was Walt Longmire, wearing his recognizable brown jacket and hat, seated on a chair near a large desk. “Dammit, Walt,” Jamie said automatically. “Not again.”

The two other men in the room - one he knew as Mathias, the tribal police chief, and the other was someone he recognized from TV - laughed long and hard. The deputy, Vic Moretti, stood near Walt’s seat, arms crossed and eyes glaring. When she made strides to meet Jamie at the doorway, Jamie noticed that Walt was handcuffed behind his back. This was already worse than he thought.

“I don’t know who you are, but I like you already,” said the man from TV. “Seems like you know Longmire’s habits have gotten himself in trouble before.”

The deputy was pressing cash into Jamie’s hand. “Don’t listen to him,” she said. “Just give me my pizzas and get out of here.”

“Now, wait,” Mathias said, raising a hand. “I’ve known this gentleman to help out with cases before. You aren’t here to help the sheriff out of some kind of jam?” he suggested.

“No, sir,” Jamie said, stumbling over the words a bit.. “I’m just here to deliver pizza.” He took the four pies out of the insulated case and finally accepted the three twenties Moretti had been trying to give him. “Need any change?”

“No, I don’t need any fucking change,” she spat back. She immediately cringed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you.” She dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Bad day at the office, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“No problem,” Jamie said, forcing an awkward laugh. He dropped his voice low too. “You know, I have some product that might help take the edge off…”

The deputy pulled a face and shook her head. Jamie got the message and shut up.

“Thanks for the pizza,” she said.

“Thanks for the tip,” Jamie replied, and he turned and headed out the door as quickly as he could.

Jacob Nighthorse would have been amused at the way the small scene with the pizza delivery guy had unfolded before him, if he was not already so frustrated and angry at the turn of events that day had already taken. He already had enough stress to deal with without Walt Longmire’s tired vendetta interrupting the course of casino business yet again. He’d gotten to work - late, of course, after having stopping by Cady Longmire’s legal clinic - when he found her father snooping around in parts of the casino where he didn’t belong. In the past he’d been able to bully his way inside with his badge, but without it, he was using old-fashioned cunning and intimidation, and Nighthorse had had enough of that from his former head of security and the Irish mob.

As it turned out, getting Cady Longmire involved in the rez residents’ legal affairs had been the soundest investment that he’d ever made, but they were butting heads in regards to hiring more help and expanding her clinic. Not only that, Cady was still obviously reeling from the trauma of killing a man, and all the work coming her way was not helping her process. But with those issues on one hand, and trying to keep casino business above-board and clear from scumbags like Malachi and Shane Muldoon.

But in any case, Sheriff Longmire was no longer sheriff, at least for the time being, so he had no authority to move about Four Arrows Casino as though he was. Nighthorse would have him deemed persona non grata if he could be sure there’d be no blowback from Cady, but for now he’d be satisfied with whatever charges Mathias could come up with. Of course, he hadn’t counted on Mathias calling Vic so soon to come get her boss out of trouble, so ultimately it appeared that satisfaction would remain out of his grasp for now.

It was hard for Nighthorse to stay angry long when he was so tired… and, now, so hungry. The cheesy, saucy, delicious pizza scent wafted from the boxes temptingly, now that they were out of the insulated case. “Deputy,” he said, “are those all for you?” One woman, four pizzas - the math didn’t work out. Mathias seemed taken aback, and even the suspended sheriff had raised an eyebrow.

“You can keep your goddamn comments to yourself,” she warned. “If you want a piece, just fucking ask.” Moretti said. She took the stack of pizza boxes and set it on Mathias’ desk. “Jesus Christ. I called and ordered on my way here because I haven’t eaten all fucking day. They were running a special.” 

Nighthorse pursed his lips and nodded his head. The deputy was known for being impulsive and making poor decisions, so this wasn’t that surprising.

“So you were going to eat all that pizza on your own?” Mathias asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against his desk.

“What did I just say?” Vic said. “If you want some. Just. Ask.” She flipped open the box on top, and gestured emphatically. “Help yourself, Mathias.”

Longmire stayed silent. With his hands in cuffs, he wasn’t capable of enjoying a slice anyway.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll have some,” Nighthorse said. “What kind is that?”

Mathias nearly gagged when he counted all the toppings he saw. There was pineapple, garlic, anchovy, capers, and onions - lots and lots of onions. How could something that smelled so good look so awful? Not only that, but did Moretti really eat this stuff? “I’m not sure I want any after all.”

“What the hell?” Nighthorse said, just as surprised as Mathias.

“Well, fuck you too,” Moretti mumbled. “I’m not going to force you to eat it, but either have a slice or close the box so it doesn’t get cold.”

Nighthorse sighed - he seemed to be enduring an inner struggle that Mathias could only see the surface of. But he took a piece of the pizza and tentatively took a bite. “Actually,” he said, with a string of cheese dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “this is much better than I anticipated. The onions are nicely caramelized.”

So Mathias took a slice too. He briefly considered picking off the pineapple - pineapple was a pizza sacrilege, as far as he was concerned - but was surprised to find that he enjoyed it just as much as Nighthorse seemed to. It was just the right combination of savory and sweet, tart and tangy. As he chewed, he nodded approvingly.

He looked at Longmire, and felt a little bad that the man’s hands were cuffed behind his back, so he could not enjoy some pizza as well. But, on the other hand, Mathias thought - fuck him. Sure, they worked well together, but only when they had to, and most of the time the man was just a pain in his ass. If he did have to follow through on an arrest or even just some kind of protective order, the paperwork to do so would take hours, and he didn’t enjoy antagonizing Longmire the way Longmire and Nighthorse seemed to enjoy antagonizing one another. When he called the Absaroka County Sheriff’s Department, though, so soon after Longmire had been suspended, he expected to be told that Longmire was his problem now. He was relieved when Vic answered, sighing and saying “I’ll be there in a few” followed by “fucking Walt” before hanging up.

“Listen, gentlemen,” the deputy said, grabbing a slice of her own. “Can we talk among ourselves for just a moment… without Walt?”

“Sure thing, Moretti,” Mathias said. “Walt - you stay here.” Nighthorse laughed, Vic rolled her eyes, and Walt said nothing. “Keep an eye on the pizza.”

The three of them stepped into the hallway, leaving the door behind them slightly ajar so Mathias could keep an eye on his office. Vic exhaled deeply and shook her head. “The guy was way over the line,” she began. “I know that. I am not going to defend his actions in this case.”

“But in every other case before, you would,” Nighthorse interjected. “He has a history of crossing the line, and you have backed him up every step of the way until now.”

“He’s not my boss anymore,” Moretti rebutted. “And whatever the papers say, me? Him? We’re not a thing,” She shook her head emphatically to get the point across. “He fucks himself over too much for anyone else to fuck him, ever.”

“I’m not too interested in anyone’s sex life here,” Nighthorse said. “I want him to stay out of my casino, and if it takes a trespass charge, or a protective order, then that’s what it takes.”

Vic looked Nighthorse directly in the eye, but it wasn’t with anger. It was something more like pity. “He’s worried about Cady.”

Nighthorse flinched. “What about Cady?” he asked. He had, after all, become just as invested in Cady’s well-being as her father was.

“Well, she fucking killed a man, for one thing,” Vic said, and then immediately she straightened her posture, and ran her pizza-free hand against her hair to smooth the wisps that escaped from her ponytail. . “Shit. I don’t mean to be short,” she said. “They’ve had a falling out. Cady hasn’t talked to him in a while, and it’s driving him crazy.”

“I didn’t realize,” said Nighthorse, not without a small element of smugness. Mathias glanced back into the office. Walt Longmire was still sitting, hands behind his back, head hung low.

“He’s going the wrong way about it - he sure as hell is, I get that, “the deputy continued. “But he needs to make sure she’s safe, that the people she’s hiring at the clinic are good people.” She took a bite of her pizza and continued talking, mouth partly full. “He can’t get that information from the sheriff’s office anymore.”

“Is that so?” Mathias asked, distrusting.

“He asked,” Vic said. ”I turned him down. He’s jeopardized my job enough.” She took a moment to chew and swallow before going on. “A lot of the people Cady is hiring worked for you first, Nighthorse. Walt is… well, he’s conducting his own perverse version of a background check.”

“His perverse background checks are, at best, extra-legal,” Mathias replied. “Nighthorse has a good case against him. And Longmire could be banned from the casino for life. Does he understand that? Does he want that?”

“I don’t know what he fucking wants,” Vic said, sounding suddenly very tired. “I don’t think he knows.”

After two or three more slices of pizza and an hour of serious discussion, Nighthorse agreed to simply writing up a report, and Mathias would file it if and when Longmire trespassed again at the casino. This way Walt would have fewer repercussions, but if he got out of line again, there’d be at least the start of a paper trail. Mathias didn’t like that this was about the extent of his law enforcement power anyway, but at least he could extricate himself from the weird grudges they had against one another.

Mathias unfastened the handcuffs that had kept Walt where he was the whole time, and Jacob Nighthorse leaned down and patted him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. “I know this is hard to hear,” he said, “but Cady is going to be fine without you.” Normally this would have provoked a response from Longmire, but as he was - already suspended, and tired, and hungry - he simply grunted and followed Vic and her three remaining pizzas out the door.

When Walt climbed into the passenger side of her department vehicle, Vic snapped. “I should make you sit in the back,” she said. “What the fuck were you thinking, sticking your nose in Nighthorse’s business like that?” She was livid. “If you need to talk to Cady, then call her.”

“She doesn’t answer.”

“Then either you don’t stop calling her,” Vic said, “or you accept that you’ve fucked up and wait for her to call you. You don’t go trespassing where you don’t belong.” She bit her lip as she threw the truck into reverse and backed onto the road. “You told me you were done doing things the same way because it wasn’t working out too well for you.”

“And you told me you were done letting me do stupid shit by myself.”

“Yeah, well,” Vic countered, “that was before you got suspended. You were supposed to knock it off with the stupid shit when you turned in your badge if you want to get it back.”

“Good thinking on the pizza,” Walt said, changing the topic. “If it hadn’t been for that, I imagine Nighthorse and Mathias would have been more inclined to see me spend the night in jail.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you lead with your head, sometimes you lead with your stomach,” Vic replied. “You want a slice? Help yourself. It’s not as good when it’s not hot but it’s something, right?”

Walt opened a new box of pizza. The cheese had begun to congeal on the top, and the crust at the bottom had gotten soggy from the sauce and the toppings, but the first bite was tastier to Walt than anything else he’d eaten that day. “This is very good,” Walt said. “I’ve never had half this stuff on a pizza before.”

Vic cracked a smile against her better judgement. “I always figured you for a sausage and pepperoni guy,” she said.

Walt chewed slowly, deliberately. The weight of conversation between them was too heavy to carry off all at once. He knew they’d have to take it slow if they were going to be able to repair what was broken about their relationship, whether or not Walt was ever reinstated as sheriff. He’d gotten so carried away with his own problems - Cady, the wrongful death lawsuit, his break-up with Donna, Henry as Hector - that he’d forgotten to check in with his deputy. He really was a bad sheriff, he thought, but perhaps there was still time to fix some things.“Everything all right with you, Vic?” he asked finally, trying not to lean too hard on the question.

Vic took one hand off the steering wheel and grabbed another slice of pizza. He’d have to wait for an answer but he trusted it would come, even if he had to wait until all the pizza was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> “The secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.” -Mark Twain


End file.
